


The One(s) They Call Ace

by candyharlot



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Drinking, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Kuroo is The Mediator, M/M, Partying, Past Relationship(s), Sexual Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 12:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8445934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candyharlot/pseuds/candyharlot
Summary: "It's not like that," Ushijima said as he grabbed another beer from the cooler nearby. "I'm just not interested in… That sort of thing. With anyone."Oikawa’s jaw went slack. Not interested…? A particularly bad case of Vodka Brain ™ was making it difficult for him to logic but – Oh.





	

If you told an 18-year-old Oikawa that one day he'd be playing setter to his sworn enemy, Ushijima Wakatoshi, he’d probably laugh in your face before punching it in.

And yet that’s exactly what he was doing, when he wasn’t working his part-time job or in class. Oikawa was about to start his sophomore year at Chuo University and things were going pretty well for him…apart from the fact that he  _ still  _ hadn’t gotten revenge on the bastard. Not in a way that satisfied him. Ushijima took Oikawa’s every attempt in stride with his usual stone-faced arrogance.

He still grit his teeth when he thought back to the shit show that was their first day of practice. Ushijima had held out his hand and said, “You made the right choice this time, Oikawa. I’m impressed with your drive to improve.”

Oikawa lunged. Kuroo, old friend and fellow recruit, had to grab him by the arm so he wouldn’t inflict bodily harm on Chuo’s prospective ace.

Things had mostly settled down since then. On the court, Ushijima and Oikawa fit together like two cogs in a complex machine. Their combination attacks were, as commentators put it, “deadly.” No other team in the prefecture could compete. A third-place trophy for the All Japan Intercollegiate Volleyball Championship sat on Oikawa’s desk. 

That was on the court. Off of the court, things were…tense. Ushijima was still tone-deaf and blunt, and Oikawa still didn’t know how to let shit go. Kuroo’s impromptu mediating had come in handy more than a few times.

Not that he would ever admit it, but Oikawa knew he was partially to blame. He felt stretched thin without having his best friend there for moral support. Talking to someone who truly knew him was something Oikawa had taken for granted for most of his life. Kuroo was a good friend, someone he knew he could ask for advice if he really needed it, but the sad truth was that there were some things only “Iwa-chan” could do.

Only Iwa-chan could roast him when he was pushing himself too hard at practices. Only Iwa-chan could berate him for not eating enough protein in favor of empty carbs like milk bread. Iwaizumi Hajime knew Oikawa’s limits better than he knew his own. He was the only person in the universe Oikawa could say he trusted more than he trusted himself.

But he wasn’t here.

It was no secret that Iwaizumi had opted to go to a different university. He chose it for its top-of-the-line engineering program and conveniently ignored the fact that the volleyball team was just-above-mediocre. In fact, they were so low on the totem pole that Oikawa and Ushijima had only played against them once.

Part of Oikawa was thankful for that, because after the match he was a hot mess. The other part of him was pissed that they didn’t get a chance to challenge each other as equals, like they promised. Before everything went to shit.

Graduation had been the worst part. They’d barely spoken since entering college, the occasional holiday visit with their families notwithstanding. The once resilient thread holding them together was now frayed by Oikawa’s guilt – the fear that they would never be able to go back to how things were.

Fear wasn’t a strong enough word. Oikawa was  _ terrified _ .

Oikawa laid into Ushijima after the match. He hadn’t  _ meant _ to – it was just that the wing-spiker had a penchant for setting him off by saying stupid, obvious things like, “Iwaizumi… He’s changed.”

Oikawa unraveled gracelessly. He wasn’t proud of it.

Ushijima, on the other hand, was obnoxiously graceful about the situation. He said nothing, did nothing while Oikawa fell apart. When he finally did speak up – only as Oikawa hovered on the edge of a breakdown – his voice was disarmingly soft.

“I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t made things worse for you.”

Rage surged through Oikawa’s veins – bubbled up in his gut. Was Ushijima pitying him? How dare he?

**_How dare he?_ **

Oikawa scoffed bitterly. He swiped at his face with the sleeve of his jacket and tried desperately to compose himself. It didn't work very well - instead of sounding menacing, he'd sounded like a petulant child. The memory still made him cringe.

“Well guess what, Ushijima?” he snapped. “You did.”

The next practice match was an absolute clusterfuck. Their coach had to pull them both aside during a timeout to ask what the hell was going on, and demand that they fix whatever it was that kept them from scoring or they’d be benched for the rest of the season.

That was the day Oikawa discovered Ushijima’s upset was the quiet, smoldering kind where he breathed slow and heavy through his nose and his brow knitted a little more sharply above his eyes. It cast an ominous shadow on his face.

Of course, this wasn't saying much since Ushijima’s default expression tended towards ominous to begin with. Oikawa could only tell there was something wrong if he got close enough to hear the waver in the ace’s breathing, see the almost imperceptible twitch in his jaw.

It was in the way Ushijima’s eyes bore into him – no, sliced  _ through _ him after he thwarted a perfectly good quick. Why? Because making it easy for Ushiwaka wasn’t an option. This fact was ingrained into his very molecular structure after years of bitterness.

Oikawa had always assumed the sight of Ushiwaka losing his cool would fill him with some kind of petty gratification.

It didn’t.

It took them winning a couple of games for Oikawa to admit (to himself, as least) that he actually  _ enjoyed _ Ushijima’s straightforward, reliable style of playing. The challenge of adjusting to a left-handed wing-spiker wasn't nearly as much of a pain in the ass as he'd imagined it would be. In fact, it was fun.

Playing with Ushijima was an experience unlike anything else. With Iwaizumi, Oikawa never had to think twice. He knew what was going to happen if he set it just right, too high, or too low. It was right there in front of him before it ever happened. 

Plays happened so fast with Ushijima, like lightning. It was dynamic – no wasted movement, executed with precision and poise. It made Oikawa’s heart race. Electricity zapped his fingertips every time he touched the ball.

Setting for Ushiwaka  _ invigorated _ him.

While his newfound happiness was nice and all, Oikawa hadn't spent any legitimate time with the guy outside of volleyball. The team’s weekly expeditions to the local ramen bar didn’t count – those were forced on them by their coach, who was really big on team camaraderie for some reason. Besides, Ushiwaka-chan was a person dedicated to his routines and that didn’t leave much room for “hanging out.” Every time Kuroo had invited him for drinks he’d declined.

Oikawa sure as hell didn’t see their first personal conversation happening at a college house party. They’d just won a qualifying match for their next tournament and everyone was still on fire, so one of the seniors had offered up his home for celebrating. Alcohol flowed freely and people were quickly getting trashed.

Oikawa was only a little surprised when he noticed Ushijima standing in the corner of the kitchen, surreptitiously plucking pretzels out of the napkin he held in his hand.  _ Didn’t he leave a long time ago? _ Oikawa’s eyes narrowed as he took a sip of the vodka cranberry he’d made for himself.

What was Ushiwaka-chan  _ doing _ ? 

Oikawa flattened his back against the wall as if it would make him less visible and watched as one – no,  _ two _ girls approached the ace. He couldn't hear much of their conversation on account of the bass vibrating off the walls, but it didn’t take a genius to see that Ushijima was uncomfortable and not in the "I’m shy and this girl is cute" kind of way, but in the "someone get me the fuck out of here" kind of way.

To his credit, he was far politer than Oikawa would’ve been in his situation, but his knuckles were white as they clenched a bottle of beer. After a few minutes of letting them attempt small talk, Ushijima gave a curt nod and turned away. 

Oikawa watched in horror as one of the girls grabbed his shirt sleeve and dragged him back. Déjà vu hit him square in the chest. He had to do something to help the poor guy.

Even if the poor guy in question was Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Oikawa didn’t feel himself walk across the room – didn’t feel himself push someone (or was it several people?) out of the way. All he knew was that he was now standing right behind the wing spiker, clapping him on the shoulder the way he would an old friend.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa sang, loud and shrill enough that the girl let go immediately. He swung an arm around the ace's neck, pulling him away towards the door leading onto the patio.

“I was worried about you! I thought we talked about this. No more drinking.” He leaned in to whisper in his ear. “You know what it does to you.”

“Oikawa, I—”

“Shhhhh, it’s okay. I’m here now,” Oikawa murmured with perfect condescension. He felt Ushijima tense, and for a second he thought the oaf was going to throw him off. As soon as they made it outside, Oikawa detached himself and took a deep breath of the night air.

While Oikawa made an effort to straighten out his clothes, Ushijima had taken up residence at the wooden banister. The music wasn’t nearly as loud out here – Oikawa was able to hear his teammate sigh.

"Were those lovely ladies not your cup of tea, Ushiwaka-chan?" he asked, leaning in beside him. "You seemed pretty eager to escape."

"They were drunk," Ushijima said, not looking at Oikawa. He tossed back the last of his beer and set it down.

Oikawa waited a few beats for him to continue, but he never did. Oikawa nudged him shoulder-to-shoulder with a smirk. "That doesn't answer my question."

Ushijima finally met his eyes after a long pause. "You're right."

Oikawa was already lamenting his choice to rescue Chuo’s ace from the hands of harpies. "Yeah, thanks for that. So…what? Are you gay? Or just picky?"

Ushijima scratched the back of his neck with a pained expression. It was a strangely vulnerable gesture and made Oikawa's tongue feel heavy in his mouth. For a moment he worried that he’d actually overstepped.

"It's not like that," Ushijima said as he grabbed another beer from the cooler nearby. "I'm just not interested in… That sort of thing. With anyone."

Oikawa’s jaw went slack.  _ Not interested…?  _ A particularly bad case of Vodka Brain ™ was making it difficult for him to logic but –

_ Oh. _

“Wait a second - back the fuck up. Are you saying you're  _ ace _ ?" he blurted out.

Ushijima blinked down at him. "Yes, I am the ace."

“Damn it, Ushiwaka. I meant – ” Oikawa ran a hand over his face. " _ Are you ace _ ?"

Ushijima blinked again. His confusion was almost endearing. "I’m not familiar with that term.”

Oikawa took another sip of his fruity monstrosity with a grimace. He debated for a moment over how to explain this to the cactus that was Ushijima Wakatoshi.

"Ace – Asexual. Basically it means that you don’t want to fuck around with anyone. Or at least – you want it less than most people. There’s a whole spectrum."

Ushijima choked on the beer he’d just started sipping. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Excuse me?"

Oikawa’s thoughts had already drifted off, back to the moment he discovered the word for people like him. The circumstances surrounding it. 

“Yeah. I didn't realize what was wrong with me until Iwa-chan tried to—" Oikawa shook his head. Why was this tumbling out of him  _ right now _ ? Talk about bad timing. He took another sip of his drink. “Shit.”

_ Alcohol does things to people _ , he reminded himself.  _ Embarrassing, awful things like bitching to your former sworn enemy _ . Ushiwaka seemed sober, but something told Oikawa that he was the type who hid it well until someone found him passed out in a chair somewhere. Maybe he'd forget about this whole exchange if he got drunk enough. Even better - maybe they would _ both  _ forget.  _ Besides _ , Oikawa reasoned,  _ when’s the last time I talked to someone about this _ ?  _ Someone who actually gets it? _

Oikawa trained his eyes on the koi pond down below. He could feel Ushijima's gaze on him, but it wasn’t demanding. It was patient.

He kept talking.

"When we tried to…do stuff for the first time it felt really, really wrong. Which felt even more wrong, because I love Iwa-chan. Why couldn’t I just do this for him?” He bit his lip. This was the first time he’d talked about this to anyone and he could feel the weight disappearing from his shoulders. “Before that happened, I just thought I wasn't into girls. Like, I’d date them. I didn't mind the late night phone calls, or kissing them if they asked me to. In high school, that’s usually enough to keep them from asking questions."

Oikawa scoffed. "Would you believe me if I told you it's not that easy once you get to college?” His voice took on a bitter note. “I'm a hopeless romantic and I can flirt my way out of anything, but otherwise I’m pretty useless as a boyfriend."

Ushijima was staring down at his hands, which he’d linked together while Oikawa was talking.

"Does any of that sound familiar to you?"

"Yes," Ushijima replied. “It does.” Silence fell between them, thick with unsaid words. There was definitely more to this but Oikawa wasn’t about to pry.

His fingers twitched with the urge to pat Ushijima on the shoulder. Instead of ignoring the impulse like he probably would’ve done had he been sober, he gave in.

Ushijima looked up in surprise.

"It's okay, Ushiwaka-chan," Oikawa assured him, giving him a solid pat. "I'm sure you'll find someone who subscribes to your brand of awkward."

Ushijima didn’t respond to that. He took another sip of his beer. They stood there for a time, enjoying the breeze until Ushijima said, "What happened with Iwaizumi?"

_ Fuck. Here we go again. _

Oikawa felt nauseatingly sober all of a sudden. He shifted on his feet - the urge to flee was rising but something was holding him in place. He took a deep breath and let the cold air fill his lungs.

“Nothing,” he finally said, plastering on one of the smiles he used to shake hands with his opponents before a game. He waved his hand dismissively for good measure. “I've moved on. Best not to dwell on things we can’t change."

Ushijima’s expression didn’t change. In fact, it became more intense. Oikawa felt the hair on his arms raise and the heat rise in his cheeks.

"What?" he asked, backing away slightly.  _ Now I regret ever saying anything. Honestly, what was I – _

"There's nothing wrong with you, Oikawa."

_ Oh. _ Oikawa wanted to deck him, he sounded so sincere. He took another swig of his drink. It was so watered down he doubted there was any alcohol left. He poured the rest out over the banister. Someone below them shouted. Oikawa ignored it.

"I had no idea you could be like this, Ushiwaka-chan,” he said with a small grin.

Ushijima smiled in return – a  _ genuine _ smile – and Oikawa almost wished that he’d frowned instead. The warm feeling that spread through his chest at the sight was just _ the worst _ .

_ That’s enough of that. _

"Well, this was nice but I'm going back inside," Oikawa declared, pushing himself off of the banister and grabbing his empty plastic cup. "I need more booze, and I think someone said they were going to hook up their Wii. I'm itching to beat someone's ass at Mario Kart. Maybe yours? Please tell me you've at least played Mario Kart."

A head tilt was Ushijima's only response to this. With an exasperated sigh, Oikawa grabbed him by the shirt sleeve and dragged him upstairs, away from the bulk of the noise. Kuroo was sitting in the middle of the den crouched over a game controller as he battled for the lead with two other people. A few of their teammates had gathered around, hooting and hollering whenever one of the players spun out on the screen. 

“Oikawa! You’re up next.”

Oikawa took the controller offered to him and handed it to Ushijima. “Looks like tonight’s the night Ushiwaka-chan learns how to play something other than volleyball.”

**Author's Note:**

> fjkdsjflkds I submitted this to the A.A.N.T.H. zine over on tumblr [which can be found here](http://enterprisecaptainoikawa.tumblr.com/post/152558830093/aanth-an-aromanticasexualnonbinarytrans) but I've edited it a fair bit since then! thanks to maëlle and ellie for looking it over when I originally wrote it!! this was my first zine submission and it was amazing being able to participate with such awesome, talented people.  
> for the purposes of this fic my hc's were:  
> -ushijima is demiromantic and asexual  
> -oikawa is homoromantic and asexual
> 
> (also, bc the odds of me writing a sequel to this are pretty low, i'm gonna say it here: oikawa probably pushed iwaizumi away bc he's a dumb dumb like that.)
> 
> thanks so much for reading! yell @ me on twitter [over here](http://twitter.com/candy_harlot)


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